Ripping
by StarsOfYaoi
Summary: *mild GermanyN.Ita, SpainS.Ita* It took an earthquake to make them see each other again.


**SOY:** April 6, 2009, a earthquake shook the city of L'Aquila, Abruzzo, destroying it almost completely and causing over two hundred people to die. Some fics have been already touching this subject, but I wanted to as well, as I am Italian myself.

My heart goes to the people who are homeless, and have lost those they held close to their hearts in such a horrible tragedy.

First Hetalia drabble. I give a bit of credit to Saramon, fellow author, because one of her drabbles inspired me to write this.

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**Rating**: K+

**Warnings:** Shounen–ai.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

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**Ripping**

**One–shot**

It had been terrible.

_Fast_, and terrible.

The earthquake had wrenched the houses, vibrations coiling inside the bricks and the stones and the wood, making them crumble, falling apart, without pity, without mercy –killing and maiming and hurting…

Then, it had stilled.

The silence had been deafening. Deathly.

Nowhere to turn, nowhere to run –the entire village had been destroyed.

So many lives lost!

So much pain!

The yelling had started seconds later –they were already crying, knowing deep down inside them, what had happened.

April 6, 2009 –_they_ would never forget it.

"Italia…"

There was no answer, from either of them.

The two brothers, at first frozen in pain and unbelieving shock when the earthquake had hit, had finally moved, working through the ruins to help as much as they could, working until the physical pain had shadowed their mental anguish, but it had not helped.

Their pain was just as strong as that of the many mourning for their families and loved ones…

So many coffins.

Five lines, fifty of them each.

There were people inside –it felt _unreal_.

Coffins.

Dead people now lost in their eternal sleep, laying inside. People who had been breathing until seconds before, people who had laughed, cried, yelled, lived…

Now still, lifeless.

And the smaller ones. Oh, the smaller coffins. The sole thought of so many young lives lost was enough to stab to any strong willed heart, filling it with dread. Pain.

Lost children, who would never open their eyes to the world again.

"Italia…" Germany repeated, not knowing what to do.

They had all arrived to help, of course –the news of the earthquake had reached every angle of the globe, and they were all there to help, one way or the other, with America tending to the food, and England offering medical furniture, and Nihon and China nursing the families, and…

And Germany, in all his might, didn't know what to do.

Why was it so easy for the others to talk to them both? Why had he allowed so much time to pass since last visit to Veneciano? Why couldn't he recognise the person in front of him, with darkened eyes and no smile?

Why was he feeling guilty?

It wasn't his fault –things had gone… cold after the war. Without wars, there was no need for him to move. Without war, he was nothing –because he was a soldier. No time for… friendships. No time for what he thought could be between them.

Yet… this was wrong –seeing both brothers like this, seeing Veneciano like this.

Where was the confidence, even during hard times?

Spain, who was standing on the other side of the two brown haired brothers, shifted ever so slightly, uncertain whether to offer his shoulder to Romano or not.

Romano's hands were trembling, his control wavering, and Spain didn't think anymore –he simply grabbed him and held him close, as the older of the two brothers cursed under his breath, his words lacking strength and sentiment.

They had helped as much as they could, and after the mass they would go back there. There was still so _much_ to do…

Veneciano blinked, observing the motion with puffy red eyes, then looked back at the coffins as the mass continued, in front of them, honouring the deaths.

The silence stretched on between them, and Germany cursed his inability to handle emotional situations again.

Was there anything he could say? Was there anything he could even _do_? He couldn't make it better. But Italia was indeed suffering…

Should he copy Spain? Would it matter?

Would Veneciano appreciate, or would he not want that? Would it feel stretched, uncomfortable, holding the young man –older now, but still the same– after so many years?

"It's ok".

Germany was startled out of his musings by Veneciano's soft voice –too soft to be _right_– coming from his side. Blue eyes shifted towards the Italian, who was not even watching him. "It's ok not to know what to do".

Germany blinked, unsurely, then sighed. it was just like him, to try and be strong. But he didn't look that strong, with tears running down his cheeks. Not at all.

"It's also ok to feel pain" he muttered in reply, stepping closer to Italia and pressing one hand on the shorter man's shoulder, uncomfortable and with a light blush on his cheeks. The contact was so familiar, and at the same time, weird –it had been a long time since they had seen each other, let alone shared a touch, comforting or not.

It brought memories back, in a way.

Of before. Of war. And yet, despite everything, it had been… not fun, per se, but not… lonely, either.

Not like the last few years.

It had been far too silent and lonely but Germany realised this only then, with a crying Italia next to him, shivering slightly in front of two hundred and fifty coffins.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around" he murmured then.

And he was.

He had promised Italia he would not leave. Once, he had promised Italia that, and he had meant it… so what had gone wrong? Had things changed so much after the war, that even promises made with the heart had fallen, ignored?

Was a catastrophe the only way they could have reunited?

"But now you are here" Veneciano turned around, and in-between his tears –tears of a still scorching pain, tears of sadness, not of childishness– he was smiling. "That's what matters".

A sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Germany knew death happened. He knew things turned wrong when you less expected it. And that Italia knew it as well, and the pain he was feeling now was strong and burning… but…

"Besides," Veneciano murmured, lifting his own hand to brush against Germany's. "It's comforting to know I can count on you again".

"I missed you" Germany blurted, quite confused about why his chest was constricting, and wanting that smile to stay and grow stronger again. And he was not lying. "It has been awfully quiet without you around".

Veneciano leaned forwards, pressing his face on Germany's chest, and hummed in response, his body relaxing in tiredness.

"I missed you, too. Don't leave _ever_ again".

Hesitantly, Germany passed one arm around Italia's shoulders, and held him close. Hell the confusion. It was not ok, and for a long while, it would not be ok.

But…

"In the morning, we'll go help around" he stated, his tone low but firm. "There is a lot to do, and you can't do it all by yourself".

A chuckle shook Italia's body. "We will stand back up. We always do" he added, snuggling a bit in the taller man's hold.

Germany looked away, embarrassed, and his gaze fell on the still going mass. It was another tragedy, just as painful as any other, but Italia would raise back again, and reconstruct and bring comfort to the crying people.

He would help this happen, and would be there when Italia smiled brightly again.

Veneciano shifted his gaze to his brother, who was clutching at Spain's arms, and met Romano's equally dark eyes. They were both glad their friends, their cared ones had come. They had to stand back up again, and without that help and that comfort, it wouldn't have been possible.

Alone, they would have crumbled under the pain, the pressure, the anguish… so Germany would never know just how much it meant to Veneciano to have him there, holding him, helping him cope with just his rough but warm presence.

Years had brought them apart, but under such circumstances, their _bond_ had been stronger… and this brought him the most comfort.

Now, they would bring that same comfort offered to them to their sad people.

And work hard.

"Grazie" Veneciano murmured to his dear Germany. "Grazie di esserci…"

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_**Owari**_

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_Grazie __di__ esserci__:_ thanks for being here.

**SOY:** I think Italia both would feel this kind of pain for whoever tragedy happened to come on them, but would be able to pull it off –but of course, with someone helping them up. Strong or weak, to have someone at your side when things go wrong is always what matters the most.

I hope I'll get some review or comment, if you liked.


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